Black Knight
by dreaming of rocketships
Summary: It seems like everyone is after the Boy Who Lived. With a Dark Lord on the rise, a Ministry doing its best to slander his name, and a Headmaster who won't tell him a thing...well, Harry Potter's pretty stressed out. Cue dramatic music, a mysterious crow, and a possible concussion and whole lot is bound to change. Maybe for the better but that's subjective at best. HP/SM.
1. His Knight, Watching

_Disclaimer_: There are many things I do not own. These two worlds and works are among them. The situation is of my own devise (for the most part) as is the writing (for the most part), but all characters (unless I make them up) are the property of the original masterminds for Harry Potter and Kuroshitsuji.

_AN_: Did they remove the line breaks? I can't find the horizontal line anymore. Block quotes are cool though.

I AM A LINE BREAK. DO NOT FEAR ME, MUGGLES! I COME IN PEACE

_Summary_: It seems like everyone is after the Boy Who Lived. With a Dark Lord on the rise, a Ministry doing its best to slander his name, and a Headmaster who won't tell him a thing...well, Harry Potter's pretty stressed out. Cue dramatic music, a mysterious crow, and a possible concussion and whole lot is bound to change. Maybe for the better but that's subjective at best.

**Black Knight**

_His Knight, Watching_

Air rushed passed the young boy as he rose in an even arc before being tugged gently back to the Earth. The boy tucked his legs under him as he fell backwards and downwards then upwards once more. He stretched his legs outwards as the forward momentum kicked in and swung him back to the ground. It was quiet tonight with only the crickets chirping and the muffled sound of cars charged down the street. The night itself was pleasantly breezy and after the suffocating heat, the boy welcomed the change. He tucked his legs downwards again and allowed gravity to pull him towards the ground.

Distant laughter alerted the boy that, if his luck ran out as it was wont to do, he would soon be having company. He brought the only swing in the small park his cousin and his friends hadn't broken to a halt and stilled. If his luck did hold out, Dudley and his friends (because the group could be none other than them at this time of night) would not notice him sitting there. The group of four boys drew to a stop at the entrance to the park laughing and joking. The boy held his breath. The boys continued on their way without looking back. He released his breath in a soft whoosh and stood up, stretching and rolling his shoulders before sighing.

It was time to head back to No. 4 Privet Drive. If he was any later than Dudley he would be scolded, not that it was anything new to him. Sometimes just being in the same room as his relatives was enough to incite a scolding. Needless to say, he tried to avoid being in their vicinity as often as he could. He set off at a brisk pace and soon he was once again within hearing range of Dudley and his three friends.

"…squealed like a pig, didn't he?" Malcolm was saying, to guffaws from the others.

"Nice right hook, Big D," said Piers

"Same time tomorrow?" said Dudley.

"Round at my place, my parents are out," said Gordon.

"See you then," said Dudley.

"Bye Dud!"

"See ya, Big D."

Their farewells made, they walked their separate ways and Dudley turned onto Magnolia Crescent. To get home first or at least at the same time, the boy would have to walk faster which probably meant acknowledging his cousin. While it might be good way to vent, he couldn't say that he felt like picking a fight tonight. Decision made, the boy quickened his pace until he caught up with his cousin and walked at a steady pace a couple steps ahead. Neither said a word. They were halfway through the alleyway that would take them from Magnolia Crescent to Wisteria Walk when Dudley made the first sound; a shuddering gasp as if he'd had a bucket of ice water dumped over him.

The boy noticed then that the night had gradually deepened before suddenly becoming pitch-black while the air froze around them. The boy twisted around in the dark trying to see a glimmer of light and the source of change. There was nothing.

"W-what are you d-doing? St-stop it!" Dudley's voice broke through the silence again.

"I'm not doing anything! Shut up and don't move!"

"I c-can't see! I've g-gone blind! I –"

"I said shut up!"

It simply wasn't possible for them to be here, the boy thought to himself. This community, the people around him; it was an all Muggle neighborhood. Little Whinging was far from the nearest Wizarding community so there was no reason to for them to be here. They couldn't be. The boy listened anyway, his eyes wide and wary.

"I'll t-tell Dad!" Dudley whimpered. "W-where are you? What are you d-do –?"

"Will you shut up?" the boy hissed, "I'm trying to lis –"

There it was. The boy closed his eyes, trying to steady himself, to find a solution that wouldn't get him expelled from the only place he'd ever considered home. At the other end of the alley the boy's worst fear drew a rattling breath. The boy trembled trying to decide what to do. He pulled out his wand from his pocket. There wasn't much he could do.

"Cut it out! Stop doing it! I'll h-hit you, I swear I will!"

"Dudley –"

Dudley didn't let him finish the sentence before Dudley's fist swung out and connected with the side of his head. The force of the punch lifted the boy off his feet and he swung backward, his wand flying out his hand, before crashing into the ground. The boy groaned before scrambling onto his hands and knees and searching frantically for his wand. If he couldn't find it, there would be no hope for them. He heard Dudley hit the fence and stumble.

"DUDLEY, COME BACK! YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!" the boy called out. Dudley squealed (perhaps if the situation weren't so dire he would have laughed at that) and his footsteps stopped. "Too late to turn back now, Big D," the boy muttered. From behind him he felt the creeping chill and knew that there was more than one. His luck had officially run out. "DUDLEY, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! WHATEVER YOU DO, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! Wand!" He continued to search for the tool which would save their lives with no luck. "Where's – wand – come on – _Lumos_!"

The wand tip miraculously lit and he snatched it before standing and turning towards the mouth of the alley. Gliding towards him was a hooded figure shrouded in a tattered cloak and greedily drawing in gasping breaths. It was nearly seven feet tall and thankfully no flesh was visible in the darkness. A dementor. The boy had encountered them before and could drive them away, especially now that he had his wand, all he had to do was summon a memory, a happy memory, and "Expecto Patronum!"

The dementor slowed at the silvery wisp produced by the spell. The memory wasn't powerful enough and it was beginning to be impossible to think of anything capable of producing a happy thought through the piercing cold. The dementor reached out a rotting gray hand.

"Expecto Patronum!"

It was a weaker attempt than the first and then came the high pitched laughter as the dementor's fingers closed around his throat. The laughter was soon replaced by a voice belonging to the same person speaking inside his head – "_Bow to death, Harry…It might even be painless…I would not know…I have never died…_"

He thought of his friends, Ron and Hermione holed away together. Fragments of their letters drifted into his mind. _"We're quite busy but I can't give you details here…" "We've been told not to say anything important in case our letters go astray" "There's a fair amount going on, we'll tell you everything when we see you…"_ He'd never see them again.

He bet they were together now; Ron with his stupid lopsided grin and Hermione's wild hair framing her smiling face and warm brown eyes. He struggled to take his breath and let it out in rush.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A silver stag burst from the wand tip and drove the dementor off. Harry collapsed to the ground and with a flick the stag turned and charged down the alleyway to free Dudley from the dementor's grasp. With that dementor's departure, the stag dissolved into a silvery mist and light and heat flooded into the area. Harry stayed on the ground, allowing warm air to infiltrate his body and regain control of his breathing. Several feet away Dudley lay curled on the ground, whimpering and shaking. _Better than I was my first time_, Harry thought vaguely as his eyes drifted closed.

As it were, he didn't see the crow launch into the night and even if he had, he wouldn't have expected it to change his life. When he did come to, it was to the sound of footsteps running into the alleyway. Mrs. Figg appeared at the mouth of the alley, winded and panicked. She spotted Harry as he pushed himself into sitting position and made to put his wand away. "Don't put it away, idiot boy!" She shrieked. He hadn't known the old neighbor was capable of hitting those frequencies. "What if there are more of them around?" If that were the case he would be dead. "Oh, I'm going to _kill _Mundungus Fletcher!"

It didn't take very long for Harry to find out that Mrs. Figg was a Squib who worked for Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry which Harry had been attending for the past four years. It also didn't take very long to find out that the headmaster had set up a guard to watch Harry and that Fletcher was supposed to be his guard for this evening. He had to admit though, the fogginess had yet to fully lift and Harry was exhausted. Nearly carrying Dudley back to No. 4 Privet Drive was not helping matters. At least he'd been back on his feet within minutes. If Dudley didn't look quite so green, Harry would have thought his larger cousin was hamming it up.

He did his best to stifle a yawn as Fletcher yelped.

"Ouch – gerroff – gerroff, you mad old bat! Someone's gotta tell Dumbledore!"

"Yes – they – have!" Mrs. Figg continued swinging a bag full of cat food in tin cans at the man who had shirked his duty. Harry watched, bemused. "And – it – had – better – be – you – and – you – can – tell – him – why – you – weren't – there – to – help!" Harry winced in sympathy as the last blow fell.

"Keep your 'airnet on! I'm going, I'm going!" He Disapparated with a sound like a car backfiring. It was the second time Harry had heard that sound tonight. He shook his head.

"I hope Dumbledore _murders_ him!" Mrs. Figg hissed. "Now come on, Harry, what are you waiting for?"

Harry didn't say that he was waiting for her, nor did he say he was rather hoping Dudley would come to already. Dudley Dursley was almost three times as wide as Harry and considerably heavier. Perhaps sometime last year this task would have been easier but now there was also a good deal of muscle underneath his cousin's fat from his new hobby, boxing. Apparently it was something Dudley was actually good at and the larger boy had become the Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing Champion of the Southeast. He staggered under his cousin's weight and maneuvered his cousin towards the house.

"I'll take you to the door," Mrs. Figg said as they finally reached Privet Drive. "Just in case there are more of them around…" Harry didn't say that she'd be better off at home if there were more of them. "Oh my word, what a catastrophe…and you had to fight them off yourself…and Dumbledore said we were to keep you from doing magic at all costs…Well, it's no good crying over spilled potion, I suppose…but the cat's among the pixies now…" Harry had to admit, he liked that last one. It reminded him of Crookshanks and the Cornish Pixie incident his second year. Crookshanks would have enjoyed that class activity immensely.

"Right…get inside and stay there," she said as they reached the door. "I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough." Mrs. Figg looked around her, her arms wrapped around herself as she took in their surroundings. "I'm going straight home. I'll need to wait for more instructions. Just stay in the house. Good night."

Harry didn't call after her. He just nodded and said a quiet farewell. Then he readjusted Dudley to free an arm and rang the doorbell. Aunt Petunia's shrill cry of alarm breached the night.

"_Diddy, what's the matter?_"


	2. His Knight, Intercepting

_AN_: I won't be issuing any more disclaimers for this story because this is fanfiction. I'm also terrible at updating in a timely manner, so sorry about that.

_AN2_: OMG, the number of people following and favoriting this story has been insane. I'm both astounded and delighted that the story's generated interest. Thank you for that.

_AN3:_ OOCness abounds mostly because Harry isn't being a moody git filled with teenage angst. But he did slam his head into the bottom of the windowsill earlier in the night, so maybe this is normal?

The Line Break as I still haven't found the "insert line" button.

_Previously_: Harry saved Dudley's life from a couple of scary Dementors, but does he ever get credit for all of his hard work? It's hard to tell with all the teenage angst going through the HP:OotP but I'm pretty sure the answer is a resounding NO!

**Black Knight**

_His Knight, Intercepting _

Harry looked over at his cousin, just as the other boy's mouth opened and decided that his task didn't require this part. He dodged out from under Dudley's arm just as vomit spewed onto the doormat.

"DIDDY! Diddy, what's the matter with you? Vernon? VERNON!"

The two adults balanced their son and managed to bring him into the kitchen. Tired, uneasy, and certain that if he stayed down here any longer, something else would go wrong, Harry made his way towards the staircase. Just as his foot touched the bottom stair, Dudley found his voice and blamed the whole affair on the only freak in the region.

"_Him_."

Harry sighed. Not fast enough.

"BOY! COME HERE!"

Years of obeying such commands took hold and Harry turned and walked into the kitchen. After the darkness of the night, the gleaming surfaces twinkled unnaturally. Harry rubbed his eyes trying to get used to the harsh light coming from the kitchen's fluorescent overhead. It flickered briefly, or seemed to at least.

"What have you done to my son?" Uncle Vernon growled, advancing on Harry.

"Saved his life," Harry said honestly. He didn't expect Uncle Vernon to believe him. "Saved my own too." He didn't expect Uncle Vernon to care. Therefore, he was not surprised when the large man's face continued to purple with suppressed rage.

"What did he do to you, Diddy?" Aunt Petunia's trembling voice cut in as she cleaned Dudley up. "Was it – was it you-know-what, darling? Did he use – his _thing_?"

It was strange, Harry thought as Dudley nodded, how she said that with the same fear as people used when they referred to Voldemort. It also occurred to Harry that anyone listening to the conversation would get the completely wrong impression of what happened.

He would clarify that for them. "Of course I used my wand." He paused as the Dursleys reacted with excess theatrics and then continued. "I didn't do anything to _him_, though."

A screech owl prevented him from clarifying further by swooping in through the kitchen window and dropping a large envelope at Harry's feet before wheeling around gracefully and slipping out through the window once more. Harry stared at the letter at his feet but didn't move to pick it up.

"OWLS!" The vein in Uncle Vernon's temple pulsed dangerously as he slammed the kitchen window closed. "OWLS AGAIN! I WILL NOT HAVE ANY OWLS IN MY HOUSE!" Harry idly wondered what the neighbors would think of that statement.

By the time the next owl arrived or rather crashed into the kitchen window, Harry was sitting at the table with his eyes closed and humming a children's song. His Uncle was still shouting, Dudley was still sick (he had to be faking by now, the effects should have worn off ages ago), and Aunt Petunia was comforting him the best she could.

"OWLS!" Uncle Vernon howled and Harry had to wonder if all the activity tonight was causing his uncle physical pain. With a sigh, Harry stood, opened the window and pulled the scroll off of the owl's leg. Scrolls were much easier to open than envelopes. Harry unfurled it and read.

_Harry – _

_Dumbledore's just arrived at the Ministry, and he's trying to sort it all out. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE. DO NOT DO ANY MORE MAGIC. DO NOT SURRENDER YOU WAND._

_Arthur Weasley _

Yes, well that was all well and good. Harry shrugged and binned the scroll along with envelope which he finally retrieved from the floor. He took his seat and the Dursleys stared at him for a moment. Harry resumed his humming.

"Who are all these owls from?" Uncle Vernon finally ground out.

"No idea who the first one is from even though it looked pretty official. The second one is from my friend Ron's dad he works at the Ministry. Guess he's worried."

"_Ministry?_" bellowed Uncle Vernon. "People like you in government? Oh this explains everything, everything, no wonder the country's going to the dogs…"

"They're only the government for our lot. Your government is sending the country to Hell in a hand-basket all on its own." Harry yawned as he continued. "Not that our Ministry is doing much better."

"Why are they writing to you now?"

"Because I did magic."

"AHA!" roared Uncle Vernon, slamming his fist onto the table in front of Harry. He only flinched a little bit. "So you admit it!" - "I admitted using magic ages ago." – "_What did you do to Dudley?_"

"Saved him."

"Was –" Dudley cut in unexpectedly. After a few minutes and much prompting Dudley was able to continue with his version of events. "Was all dark…everything dark. And then I h-heard…things. Inside m-my head…"

Harry nodded with his head still in his arms. "Yeah, I hear my mum screaming when they're around. Sucks."

They all ignored him except maybe Dudley. Harry didn't really know since all he could see was the make-shift darkness in the space between his arms.

"What sort of things did you hear, popkin?" Aunt Petunia breathed, horrified? Fascinated? Harry wasn't sure but he was certainly curious about what Dudley who always got everything he wanted and never had to work for would hear. Dudley didn't enlighten them. Instead he continued describing the experience itself. "T-tripped and then –" he gestured towards his chest. "Cold. Really cold. Felt...felt…felt…as if…as if…"

"As if you'd never be happy again," Harry supplied helpfully.

"Yes," Dudley whispered still trembling.

"So you put some crackpot spell on my son so he'd hear voices and believe he was – was doomed to misery, or something, did you?"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" said Harry, his voice and temper rushing forward, driving him to his feet suddenly. "I saved his life! A couple of dementors were there and I drove them off!"

"A couple of – what's this codswallop?"

"De – men – tors," Harry pronounced carefully. "Two of them."

"And what the ruddy hell are dementors?"

"They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban," said Aunt Petunia. Harry and Uncle Vernon froze and then as one turned their heads to stare at her in disbelief. _Really?_ "I heard – that awful boy – telling her about them – years ago," she answered their unspoken question.

They stood quietly until Harry sank back into his seat. Uncle Vernon's mouth opened and closed, looking very much like a fish out of water. Harry would find the magical equivalent of that expression as soon as he was back in the Wizarding world. "So – so – they—er – they – er – they actually do exist, do they – er – dementy-whatsits?"

Aunt Petunia nodded once, sharply.

More silence, and another owl flew in threw the still open window. Harry took this letter (another official looking one) from the owl's beak and this time tore the enveloped open.

"Enough – effing – owls…" Uncle Vernon muttered before proceeding to slam the window shut again.

_Dear Mr. Potter, _

_Further to our letter of approximately twenty two minutes ago, the Ministry of Magic has revised its decision to destroy your wand forthwith. You may retain your wand until your disciplinary hearing on 12__th__ August, at which time an official decision will be taken. _

_Following discussions with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry has agreed that the question of your expulsion will also be decided at that time. You should therefore consider yourself suspended from school pending further inquiries. _

_With best wishes,_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE_

_Ministry of Magic_

"Hm, they expelled me earlier. I have a hearing now." Harry crumbled the letter and tossed it into the bin. It made it, barely.

"And they'll sentence you there?"

"I suppose so."

"I won't give up hope then," said Uncle Vernon nastily. Harry was sure he missed something because that didn't make much sense to him but he shrugged.

"Well, if that's all," said Harry, getting back to his feet and stretching lazily. He needed some sleep. He couldn't gather his thoughts into coherent form at the moment.

"NO, IT RUDDY WELL IS NOT ALL!" bellowed Uncle Vernon. "SIT BACK DOWN!" In other circumstances Harry may have been flattered. Look at Uncle Vernon acting all parental!

"What's that?" asked Harry, distantly.

"DUDLEY!" Uncle Vernon snarled. "I want to know exactly what happened to my son!"

"Oh, that." Harry carded his fingers through his hair, sighed, and then nodded as he followed the direction to sit down. "Dudley and I were in the alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk when the two dementors turned up –"

"But what ARE dementoids?" asked Uncle Vernon furiously. "What do they DO?"

"I told you – they suck all the happiness out of you," said Harry, "and if they get the chance, they kiss you –"

"_Kiss_ you?"

"Bit misleading really," Harry answered nonchalantly. "It's what they call it when they suck the soul out of your mouth."

Aunt Petunia screamed softly.

"His soul? They didn't take – he's still got his –"

She grabbed Dudley and shook him as if shaking a tin can. She might hear his brain rattling around but his soul was unfortunately silent.

"Of course, they didn't get his soul, you'd know if they had."

"Fought 'em off, did you, son?" said Uncle Vernon loudly. "Gave 'em the old one-two, did you?"

"I wonder if he could've," Harry said aloud. "Far as I know you can't though. Muggles can't see them anyway."

"Why's he all right, then?"

"Because I saved him…with magic…a Patronus –"

Another owl came shooting in through the fireplace and landed with a soft click of its talons onto the table in front of Harry. "For Merlin's sake, I'm pretty sure if they stopped sending letters I'd be asleep already." The owl hooted sympathetically and held out its leg and Harry untied the letter. Relieved of its burden, the owl gave a soft hoot and took off back up the chimney. Harry wondered for a moment how the owl got enough lift to fly vertically but gave it up as another mystery of owl magic and instead focused on the letter, ignoring Uncle Vernon's owl tirade.

_Arthur's just told us what's happened._

_Don't leave the house again, whatever you do. _

"They're being repulsive today," Harry announced. "Honestly, you'd think they'd say 'Hey, good job saving your life when Dumbledore's guard skived off' or 'You OK, kid.' No, instead they tell me stuff I would already do anyway and – gah! " Harry waved the letter in the air before crumbling it and subjecting the letter to the same fate as the previous ones.

"Guard?"

"Yeah, Dumbledore had people following me to make sure something like this didn't happen. Fat lot of good that did, eh?"

The Dursleys didn't answer and in the silence that followed Harry stood up and made his way to his room. No one stopped him this time and he collapsed onto his bed. He was asleep when another owl delivered its letter. He would never know if it was dream that he'd heard Dumbledore's voice ominously reminding Aunt Petunia to "REMEMBER MY LAST!" Strange, that.

The very last owl, detailing the time that Dumbledore's advance guard would pick Harry up was intercepted by the same crow that had flown off earlier. The owl shrieked as the crow dove at it and ripped the scroll from the string. Knowing that it was outmatched, the owl wheeled around and headed back to the castle as the crow issued a caw of victory.


	3. His Knight, Wheels of Time

_AN: _Thank you for all the reviews and the faves and the follows. They're exciting to see. I only intended to update once a week, but that sort of went down the drain. Just a note though; only four chapters were fully written (I'm working on the fifth) and I'm not liking the length of the chapters. I mean, word count is fine but have you seen the paragraph sizes? Unacceptable (to me). So I'll be adding a bit more in detail but it might take longer to update. Who am I actually kidding? The updates will certainly not be three times in a week. With luck though, two a week may be possible. Wednesday and Friday? Maybe. Anyway, thanks for the support guys!

_P.S.:_ I was thinking about switching around this chapter and the next just to keep things under wraps for no good reason but decided not too. Obviously, I'm ignoring some aspects of the anime which I've been watching and the manga which I haven't read (not for lack of looking). But, Season 2 just rubbed me the wrong way. Namely, I don't like Alois and his gang.

_Previously:_ Harry enters No. 4 Privet Drive without further problems from soul-sucking dementors. However, he is confronted by a different creature who has the capability of draining any happiness from Harry by just being in the same room. The creature's name, you ask? Vernon Dursley. After a series of owls delivering bad news and discovering that Aunt Petunia knows more about the Wizarding World than she likes and explaining the events of the night to his uncle, Harry manages to retreat to his room. Outside, a last letter is intercepted by a crow.

**Black Knight**

_His Knight, Wheels of Time_

"You called for me, Young Master?" the butler greeted, bowing low with one hand held to his chest. The boy he addressed, or rather the young man, sat facing the large windows overlooking his estate. He eyed his red-eyed servant's reflection with a thoughtful expression.

"I did." The young man nodded to his wife who sat on a rocking chair in the room. "If you could give us a moment, Lizzie."

Lizzie looked up from her knitting and nodded, her blonde curls bouncing as she did so. "Of course, Ciel. I'll see you in a bit."

"Thank you." He waited until the door to the study closed behind her and her footsteps faded into the distance before he addressed his butler again. "You have served me faithfully for longer than what was originally agreed upon, Sebastian. Our business concluded when the angel was defeated. Why are we still here?"

"You already know the answer to that, Young Master," Sebastian answered.

Ciel gazed down at the ring in his hand which had been passed down in the Phantomhive family for generations. He turned it over. "You cannot eat my soul but yet you are bound by the contract."

"Until the very end, Young Master."

Ciel swiveled his chair to face his servant and met the demon's eyes. "Until the very end," he agreed. "Which is now."

Sebastian's eyes widened a fraction before narrowing. "What do you mean?"

"If you cannot devour my soul then there is nothing left for you here unless you enjoy playing the servant," Ciel explained. "You failed to devour my soul which would have completed the terms of our original contract, but you tried. You are bound here not by the contract but by your desire; am I correct, Sebastian?"

"You are, Young Master," Sebastian answered candidly. "Your soul is most delectable."

"Then I offer you another deal." Sebastian blinked. "Lizzie will lose our child if she cannot be healed. The doctors believe that if she were to, she would be barren afterwards." Ciel took a deep breath. "I face the extinction of the Phantomhive family; I cannot allow for this to happen. Ensure the survival of our family, and if the child is a female, wait for an heir worthy of bearing the Phantomhive name to claim it. For this you shall have my soul and be free to form other contracts in the meantime."

Sebastian's eyes gleamed purple as a smile spread across his sharp features. "I quite like this deal. Shall we seal it?" Ciel nodded. "Your orders then?"

"Sebastian, I order you. Protect my family."

The demon bowed once more. "As you wish, Young Master."

That April, Lizzie gave birth to a girl with eyes like glistening sapphire and wispy strands of blonde hair covering her head. They named her Celeste. Shortly after Celeste was born, Ciel and Sebastian disappeared. Their bodies were never found and Lizzie could not bear to stay in the manor without her husband. She had the remaining servants close the home and retreated to the relative comfort of the London townhouse where the two Phantomhive women settled. Neither of them noticed the crow watching over them.

Celeste married a handsome officer in the Royal Army at the age of thirty and they had twin daughters, Dahlia and Rose, five years later. He died shortly after, towards the beginning of the Second World War. Celeste never remarried. Dahlia married an educated man straight out of Oxford University in 1951; he proceeded to take a seat in Parliament. Celeste and Lizzie were pleased with the match. Rose, however, was a bit of a rebel. She preferred dancing to dating and spent much of her time in parties instead of studying or participating in hobbies approved for proper ladies. She didn't want to be tied down but in 1956 she met the love of her life, John Evans. After a yearlong whirlwind romance, the two married much to the distress of her mother and grandparents and settled in Cokeworth.

Lizzie died peacefully the following autumn at the age of eighty six, still living in the London Townhouse. Within a year, Rose was pregnant and on 14 February, 1959, she gave birth to her first daughter, Petunia. On 30 January, 1960, Rose's small family was complete with the addition of a second daughter, Lily. Celeste passed away quietly when the girls were both four years old.

Dahlia and her husband, Edward died in a tragic accident when Lily was ten; the two were childless. Rose inherited her family legacy but the family touched none of it. They were living a modest lifestyle and even though John worked in the mines, they were happy and healthy. She only took aside enough to put her girls through school.

The next year, Lily was invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Rose and John were thrilled by the news that such a thing as magic existed. Rose, who had grown up hearing stories about her grandfather, Ciel, had never doubted the existence of something else but to finally have a name for it! She was disappointed that neither she nor Petunia could partake in this inheritance but she supported Lily regardless.

Rose watched in dismay as the relationship between Petunia and Lily (once very strong) tensed and finally fractured. Petunia was fifteen and had decided that magic was not only weird but unnatural. She accepted no explanations from her mother and instead criticized them for supporting such abnormalities. It came as no surprise to them when Petunia married her perfectly normal and respectable high school sweetheart, Vernon Dursley, right after graduating. She was only eighteen.

Petunia cut all ties with her parents and her sister after her wedding and except for the occasional letter Lily or Rose sent, she received no news. Two years later, Lily also married. Her husband, James Potter, had been an aggravating boy but he matured into a good man if sometimes lacking in wisdom. Their wedding, while not as big as Petunia and Vernon's, was much more intimate consisting of only close friends and family. John and Rose Evans saw their youngest daughter and their son-in-law to the airport for their honeymoon. James alternated between childlike glee and overwhelming terror.

"Come now, dear. Lily tells me you're an excellent flier," Rose said with a mischievous grin. "If you're worried just don't think about you and the very long drop to the ground." James paled.

"Mum!" Lily laughed as her mother put on an innocent look. "I'll see you when we get back. I love you."

"Love you too, darling." Rose moved out of the way so John could say his own farewells. "Call us when you land. And when you get back, of course. Be careful."

"We will. Get home safe and don't let Dad go over the speed limit please."

Two weeks later, the newlywed Potters returned to Evans household in Cokeworth to find the Dark Mark twisting in the night sky. The green light emitted by the symbol lit Lily's way as she ran up the steps to find her parents dead. Rose and John's funeral was a somber; one that Lily left hastily after bidding her parents a final farewell. She stopped at the church steps only long enough to meet her sister's eyes a last time and they nodded briefly in acknowledgment before Lily fled.

On 23 June, 1980 the first male descendent of Ciel Phantomhive was born to Petunia and Vernon Dursley. The blonde haired, crystal blue eyed infant weighed 8lbs and 12 ounces and was fifteen inches long. He wailed at the top of his little lungs with very little prompting and continued to fuss as he was wrestled into his father's arms. That was the first time Petunia had ever seen Vernon with tears in his eyes. But perhaps she was just seeing things, she thought as she wiped away her own tears. The Dursley family, which is to say Vernon's parents Charles and Victoria as well as his sister Margaret, all declared that he was a perfect angel. They decided to call him Dudley.

Two months later, at 9:23PM on the evening of 30 July, Lily went into labor. Her son was born nearly 27 hours later. He cried before the midwife attending to Lily got him to open his eyes and James's grin stretched across his face. Big, emerald green eyes blinked sleepily at him before closing again.

"He's got your eyes, Lils."

"I think he's going to be a carbon-copy of you though," Lily whispered taking in the blanket of black hair. "Please, Merlin, spare us James's unruly hair! It'll drive me spare."

The infant's honorary uncles entered the room and one Sirius Black cradled his godson close.

"So, what are you naming him?" Peter asked, as Remus cooed at the infant in Sirius's arms.

Lily and James looked at each other before nodding and replied in unison. "Hadrian James Potter."

"Harry, for short," Lily added.

The crow watched as the lives of his former master's descendants played out below his perch. The overall arc seemed to be one of tragic comedy, but perhaps that was human life in general. Mishaps and blunders led to growth and change. Relationships were built out of the rubble of others. Chance highlighted the traits of those affected.

Through the decades that had passed, he had refrained from intervening. It was not necessary to protect the line up to this point and still he could watch. Though this time he would have to draw closer to his charges. After all, his task was to select the male most worthy to carry on the Phantomhive name. Now, he had two to choose from or the next option, wait for their kids to come into being. For now, the crow demon who had once been known as Sebastian Michaelis was content to watch and wait.


	4. His Knight, Advance Guard

_Previously:_Sebastian is old. Like really damn old. So he apparently has no problem following the orders of his former master, Ciel Phantomhive. The orders are simple: watch, protect, and select. Piece of cake, it'll only take a century (give or take a few years). In other words, the blink of an eye.

**Black Knight**

_His Knight, Advance Guard_

After a good night's sleep, Harry was able to process the events of last night and realize that he had underreacted spectacularly. He had spent the entire summer with no word from the Wizarding World besides Sirius, Ron, and Hermione (the three of them not good for wrangling information from) and it took a dementor attack for them to stop ignoring him. But do they finally loosen their tongues? No, instead they treat him like a naughty kid. "_Don't do any more magic, stay in the house, don't forget to sit in the corner and think about what you've done wrong!_"

He growled and kicked his school trunk as he passed it. It didn't help him feel much better, so instead he opened the top took out a roll of parchment and began shredding it as he thought. Writing a letter to his friends probably wouldn't help as it was likely they would know more and refuse to tell him. The last thing he needed right now were more tantalizing hints. He supposed he could leave, just to spite them all but then he remembered the guards that Mrs. Figg had told him were following him around. Merlin, they had witnessed firsthand just how dull his life was while at the Dursleys. He rather wanted to hex them all. They'd seen him trying to get information; couldn't they have spoken to him? Left a little note next to him telling him what was going on? There was no way something like that could have been intercepted.

Idiots.

And could someone tell him why the bloody hell there were dementors in Little Whinging? Did the Ministry send them? Were they rogue? Has Voldemort taken over Azkaban? There were so many possibilities and not enough people helping to rule any out. He would have to assume the worst. Voldemort had overthrown the Ministry of Magic and now the Minister of Magic was under the control of aliens! The aliens are in league with Voldemort because they saw a familial resemblance and now…Now they were preparing for an invasion. Yeah, that was it.

Harry scoffed and continued tearing the parchment into ever tinier pieces. He imagined that it was all the paperwork in the Ministry. Maybe without those documents keeping everything in status quo, things would be better. The Wizarding World would rejoice! Well, the Ministry workers at least.

Hedwig flew into the room with a dead frog held firmly in her beak. "About time!" Harry declared as she landed onto the top of her cage. "I was about to call a strike on my guards." Hedwig blinked her large amber eyes once. "Did you finally manage to catch Prince Charming? I think you were supposed to kiss him, not eat him." Hedwig gave a muffled hoot that Harry could have sworn was a scoff.

"Should I start making the banner? Would you fly around with me outside if I made one you could wear?" Hedwig dropped her prize and began to tear into it, not bothering to answer. "Fantastic!" Harry returned to his trunk and rummaged through it for a moment before finding his query. "Aha!" He pulled out the sheaf of parchment, and a thick marker he'd found in the room when he'd first moved in from the cupboard under the stairs. "Let's see…" He uncapped the marker and began writing. "That's for you to carry, Hedwig," he said as he neatly tore off a long, but thin strip. On it was written "BIRDS OF A FEATHER MUST FLOCK TOGETHER!"

He rolled one end and taped it shut then slipped a string through the funnel and tied it. Now it was something Hedwig could fly with. All he had to do was wrap it around her foot. "What do you think?"

Hedwig surveyed it and hooted her approval.

"Excellent. Next is mine. Should I write 'NO NEWS IS REFUSE' or 'GO HOME USELESS STALKERS'?" Hedwig didn't deign his question with a response so he chose the first and then made a banner to carry outside when he decided to leave his room and the second he wrote in large block letters and unfurled out of his window. He taped it to his windowsill and flipped off whoever was watching today.

The next day, Harry decided he was going to protest silently and not expend any energy. He taped the three signs (although he had to remake the last one) to the inside of his window just to make sure they would be noticed and wouldn't go missing. He glared at the spot that he knew his guard to be standing in judging from the compressed grass, and slammed the window closed. Hedwig was sleeping so he didn't have to worry about her needing the window open for another few hours. After locking the window, he drew the curtains closed and stared at the wall wondering why he didn't just leave through the back door and hopping the fence. By the time they noticed he was gone, he could be in London.

As he contemplated running off to spend the day in Diagon Alley, the cat flap opened and a plate of peanut butter sandwiches was pushed in. A glass of milk followed shortly after that.

"Thanks Aunt Petunia." She said nothing but he heard her stand back up and walk away.

He wound up not leaving the house. He simply sat at the desk reading _Quidditch through the Ages_ for what could have easily been the hundredth time. Therefore, he clearly heard the clicking of a beak outside his window. News! Maybe they were writing to tell him to take down the signs. Or they were finally coming clean about the alien controlled cyborgs now dominating the Ministry of Magic and the Ministry of Agriculture! He hurried to the window and opened it allowing the owl to fly in and land on the bed post. He turned and faced the owl to retrieve the letter.

Only…it wasn't an owl and there was no attached scroll.

"Since when do crows make house calls?"

The crow cawed and ruffled its feathers. Hedwig hooted disapprovingly at its amusement but when it turned towards her and flapped its wings she fell silent and watched it warily. The crow lifted its beak and haughtily turned back to face Harry, its talons clicking on the wood as it did so. His snowy owl would have huffed if she was a human. Instead she turned her back on the newcomer, then turned her head to watch its interaction with Harry.

"OK then, now that you two are acquainted…what do you want?" The crow cawed again and flew to the top of the wardrobe before settling in. Harry blinked up at the crow. It twisted its head to watch him with a black eye, which blinked. "Fine, you win. I'm not chasing you out." Since the crow didn't come bearing news or gossip, he flipped off his guard again before closing the window and reclosing the blinds.

He flopped back into the uncomfortable and rickety chair by the desk and kicked his legs up onto the desk itself before flipping the book open again and staring at the page. He didn't read. How could he when there was a bleeding crow staring at him…and he swore that the damn bird wasn't even blinking.

"For the love of Rowena, do I have something on my face?" The crow cawed again. "Do that one more time and I'll get the broom, you dusty boa." The crow clicked its beak this time but its feathers ruffled again and Harry just knew it was still laughing at him. Harry glared at it for a moment and then sighed. "Since you seem to have made yourself at home, I just have to lay out some ground rules. One: Don't make too much noise, I really don't want to have to deal with Uncle Vernon in the next millennia. Two: Erm, oh, yeah…don't leave your food in here. All carcasses are to be dumped on the guards head. Precision is key. Three: I shall call you Salazar, and you shall be mine. At least until you decide to go elsewhere. Crystal?"

The crow, now dubbed Salazar tilted its head as it observed the fifteen year old quietly for a moment. Then it bobbed its head in agreement. "Great! Then welcome to the Hotel Dursley! You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave," Harry finished ominously. He snorted and resumed reading. "Feels like that, sometimes."

"BOY! WHAT'S ALL THAT RACKET IN THERE?!"

"Nothing, Uncle Vernon. I'll shut up now."

"YOU'D BETTER!"

Harry sighed as the man on the other side of the door walked away. The third day of Harry's containment passed with little else but the occasional turn of the page and finally the opening of the window and the creaking of the bed as Harry climbed in for the night. The teenager boy shut off the lamp sitting on the bedside table. "Goodnight Hedwig, Salazar."

After a few minutes the boy's breathing evened out and Hedwig spread her wings from her position on the top of her cage. She twisted her head to stare up at Salazar who was still perched atop the wardrobe. She hooted at him menacingly and Salazar simply tilted his head to stare at her. She hooted again and flapped her wings. Salazar did not move. The owl ruffled her feathers and left her perch. She rose gracefully into the air then circled the room once, her wings clipping Salazar's head. He was tempted to snap at the haughty bird but refrained and she swept out of the window unmolested.

The curtains fell back into place after her. Good. The crow hopped twice to get to the edge of the wardrobe, spread his wings and glided from his perch. He landed neatly as a man dressed in a black three piece suit. He lifted his hands, revealing the black nails and brushed it through the sleeping teenager's hair. Hadrian shifted underneath the touch but did not wake.

Sebastian…no, Salazar's eyes burned violet in the night but there was none to see it. So, calmly he sat on the foot of Hadrian's bed and contemplated the situation. Dumbledore's people would be here to retrieve Hadrian tomorrow night. He could bring Harry to the Phantomhive estate now. Salazar had already made the manor habitable and had hired staff. It was likely that Salazar would once again be doing, well, mostly everything but the staff's main function was defense anyway. However, there were no wards in place to protect Hadrian and in the current political atmosphere it would be difficult to arrange.

Not impossible, though.

Salazar's second option was to allow the "Advance Guard" – pompous mortals, no? – to bring Hadrian to their headquarters and simply accompany him in his crow form. They would probably ask questions but Hadrian's candid answers would not reveal the truth. He would be able to protect Hadrian if he needed to with the additional security provided by wards and Dumbledore's people. It would certainly help that they would not search for him in this case.

The demon frowned as he looked at his sleeping master, or rather his charge, he supposed. After all, Hadrian had not made a contract with Salazar. But that hardly mattered. Salazar tapped out a slow rhythm on his knee as he continued to strategize. Quite frankly Dumbledore was a problem. He allowed Hadrian to take on more than a boy his age should and while Hadrian bore the tasks remarkably well, he was still just a child. A child who was given no extra training; something Salazar would certainly rectify.

There was also the matter of the prophecy. Hadrian was fifteen, he should be told of its contents and he would be. Albus Dumbledore was not the only one who knew the thrice damned thing. Salazar did not see the purpose of keeping that away from Hadrian unless he wanted the teenager to go into battle blind, or maybe Dumbledore himself was blind to the child's maturity. That would certainly be the less insidious justification.

Hadrian would not receive what he needed from Dumbledore if he went with the Advance Guard. Salazar melted into the shadows and sped towards his task. The wards around the manor would be up by tomorrow night, of that Salazar was certain.

Uncle Vernon entered Harry's bedroom, dressed to the nines though the effect was ruined by the smug expression on his face.

"We're going out," he said.

"Sorry?"

"We – that is to say, your aunt, Dudley, and I – are going out."

"Fine," Harry replied. He returned his gaze to the ceiling.

"You are not to leave your bedroom while we are away."

"Okay."

"You are not to touch the television, the stereo, or any of our possessions."

Shame, Harry could have used some music to cheer him up. "Right."

"You are not to steal food from the fridge."

"Okay." He wouldn't steal it, he would eat it.

"I am going to lock your door."

"You do that."

Uncle Vernon eyed Harry with suspicion before leaving the room and doing exactly what he said he would. He locked Harry in the room. Footsteps followed and the sound of car doors slammed before the car itself rumbled to life. The family drove away and Harry lay on the bed and sighed before resuming his previous occupation. "~ London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady. ~"

Somewhere outside an owl hooted, the room grew steadily darker, and finally a crash resounded through the empty house. Silence followed and then the sound of voices. Whoever these intruders were didn't bother trying to keep quiet and a series of footsteps climbed the staircase.

"Awfully clean, these Muggles," a woman announced, partially in awe.

"Quiet, Nymphadora!" a gruff voice replied. The multiple locks on Harry's bedroom door clicked loudly and the door swung open.

"Don't call me Nymphadora!" she snarled. She didn't move to enter the room. Neither did the other seven or eight people with her.

"He isn't here," the man growled as he clunked into the room. "None of his belongings are here either."

"That's not possible," another woman replied stepping further into the room. "He couldn't possibly have left; we would have seen him!"

"Well, he ain't here, is he?"

"Maybe he's hiding," the woman suggested desperately.

"The door was locked from the outside," Nymphadora said. "He would've needed magic to get out and since there's no owl from the Ministry it's safe to assume he didn't. Remus?"

A man dressed in robes that had seen better days moved back into the house and explored. "He's definitely not here."

"Someone tell Dumbledore the boy's run away."


	5. His Knight, the Task Master

_AN_: First, I should probably apologize. I work in retail at the moment so the week was super busy thanks to Christmas and then family time and the worst…a minor writer's block…Basically I was too tired/busy to update. However, I did appreciate the reviews in the meantime. At any rate, thank you for your patience with me.

* * *

><p><em><span>Previously<span>_: Sebastian – scratch that, Salazar – reveals himself to…the fourth wall because Harry is sleeping. Creepiness aside (because Salazar is a demon so we expect that), he reveals that he knows stuff because he's stolen Harry's mail. Don't feel bad, Harry wouldn't have cared anyway. He flies off to prepare and the next night, Dumbledore's Advance Guard arrives to find No. 4 Privet Drive devoid of occupants.

**Black Knight**

_His Knight, the Task Master  
><em>

Nymphadora Tonks huffed as she walked down Wisteria Walk, her arms firmly crossed over her chest and flaming red hair falling around her shoulders. She glared over at Hestia Jones, her partner for the evening. Normally the two got on fairly well, but the past couple of hours were trying and the other witch's constant chatter grated on Tonk's frayed nerves. The Advance Guard, as they dubbed themselves, entered the smallest bedroom of No. 4 Privet Drive to find it empty nearly three hours ago. Almost immediately, Moody began issuing orders.

"Someone tell Dumbledore the boy's run away." Dedalus Diggle popped away to deliver the news to the illustrious wizard and Moody turned to the remaining members of the Advance Guard. "Finding Potter is our first priority. We can't be sure the letter wasn't intercepted by Death Eaters or the Ministry. He may be in danger and not even know it so we'll have to split up and find the boy before trouble does. Nymphadora, Hestia I want you two to start asking around the neighborhood. With any luck he's just gone to a friend's house and we can be on our way. Kingsley, Sturgis; head to the Ministry, see if he's done anymore magic since leaving. If he has, track him and Apparate him directly back to Headquarters." The two men nodded to show they understood and Moody continued. "Remus, Emmeline: you'll both be trying to track him if he left by foot. Check the train stations, buses, anything that the boy could've used to leave. I'll keep an eye out for the boy from the air with Elphias. If you find him send out a Patronus."

With that the Advance Guard separated into their respective tasks and began the manhunt. After an hour with no luck from any of them, the Rear Guard, consisting of the three eldest male Weasleys, Mundungus Fletcher, and Minerva McGonagall were called in to help with the search. An hour later and Tonks was repressing a biting remark. She took a deep breath and her hair receded to a mousy brown. She had to admit, if only to herself, that most of her frustration wasn't directed at the chattering woman who must have been as nervous as she was, but at the situation. The two women had received one of three answers to their inquiries.

"Harry Potter? Can't say I've heard of him. I'll let you know if I hear anything though."

"You're looking for that Potter boy? I'd say don't bother. Petunia's always told me what a menace her nephew is, the poor dear. If he's gone and run off than good riddance!"

No answer.

Finally, Tonks cut across another idle chat about the latest Quidditch scores. "Doesn't it bother you how, when Harry Potter isn't invisible, he's a bad seed?"

"Oh Merlin, yes!" Hestia was quick to agree. It seemed like she had the same thing on her mind and just didn't want to acknowledge it. "Remus and Sirius have told me so much about him and his friends are just as vocal about how good he is, how loyal and brave and sweet." Hestia looked around them as they drew up to another pair of houses. "These Muggles might as well be talking about a whole different person."

"I can't imagine this is doing us much good; should we try our luck helping out Remus and Emmeline?"

Hestia pulled away from the door, looking at it uncertainly. Down the road was the park that just four days earlier, Harry Potter had sat in watching his cousin and his gang make their way home. "I've never seen him with any of the Muggles other than his relatives the times I've guarded him. It doesn't seem like he has any friends here."

Tonks shook her head in accord with Hestia's assessment. "So we check the park – he liked going there, right? – and then head to station?"

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

><p>"The Point-Me charms isn't working," Elphias called out to Moody as they made their rounds through the air. The night was warm and balmy just like every night that week. The WWN was calling the summer temperatures the highest in a decade. "The boy is probably behind some good wards."<p>

Moody grunted and tilted the broom just a slight touch to the right. His magical eye roved over the ground easily discerning moving figures and trying to pick Harry Potter out from them. It was a fruitless task, though, especially if Elphias was failing to pinpoint his location. His undamaged eye kept track of his movements through the night sky, making sure that he didn't fly into his companion or miss the boy's legendary flying skills. "That's bad news for us. There's no telling what company the boy's found himself in or whether he's safe or not. We'll have to assume the worst."

"He's run off to join the Babbitty Wander Circus and we'll probably find him taming a ferocious manticore." Moody turned his head to stare at Elphias incredulously without taking his magical eye off his path.

"I was referring to Death Eaters, at the very worst."

"Oh, right…"

They continued to fly in silence before giving up the airborne search a couple hours later.

* * *

><p>Remus Lupin stood at the end of the station trying to pick up a scent of his lost cub. He didn't have much luck; in fact, he had none at all. Harry hadn't been in this station today, nor at any of the bus stops that he'd visited or the other station in this town. Remus tried not to let his companion (Arthur Weasley had joined him a little after an hour of him searching alone) see exactly how unsettled Harry's disappearance had made him. Luckily Arthur was busy exclaiming over the turnstiles.<p>

"Quite genius, these Muggles, aren't they?" Arthur asked as he played with it. "They come up with all types of ways to get around not having magic!" He pushed the metal bar to make the turnstile spin. "Ingenious, really!" It was fortunate for them that at this time of night the station was deserted. Without witnesses, Remus didn't have to shush his excitable companion and even better, he could ignore him. With some difficulty. "I'll have to remember to ask Harry what these contraptions are for. Did you find any traces of him?"

"None," Remus answered. He turned his heads towards approaching footsteps and watched until the owners, plural, stepped into the light. His disappointment must have been visible because one of the owners gave a short huff of annoyance before turning her back towards him. "The Muggles haven't seen him recently if they've seen him at all," she told Arthur.

Arthur frowned and shook his head. "It's not like Harry to run off," he said sadly. "He attracts trouble but he isn't the type to run towards it and he's not the type to run away even if he does get spooked. He must know that everything is going okay now that Dumbledore is taking care of the problem."

"You don't think he ran or went to a friend's house?" Hestia asked quietly.

"No, I don't. If Harry's gone then something's happened. He must be scared," Arthur answered. Remus silently agreed with Arthur's assertions.

A moment later a large bear-shaped Patronus appeared and spoke in Moody's grizzly voice. "Looks like no one's found the boy and our charms are not working. Wherever he is, we won't find him unless he comes out. Regroup at Headquarters, we'll debrief there and assign watches for the boy."

* * *

><p>Harry popped another grape into his mouth as he watched anime on the television, his feet which were crossed at the ankles, rested on top of a wood coffee table. He tossed a grape at the teenage boy sitting crisscross on the other side of the coffee table. It bounced off the boy's curly head and rolled onto the floor. Harry tossed another. The door behind Harry opened and he froze until he heard heeled shoes click against the wood floors.<p>

"I'm pretty sure I heard Salazar say something educational," the newcomer said daintily taking a seat on the sofa. Harry watched as she tossed her icy-blue hair over her shoulder and pursed her pale lips at the screen.

"Shhh, we're learning the way of the samurai!" Harry mock-whispered. The girl scoffed. "Besides, weren't you supposed be polishing teaspoons?"

"The banisters, actually. And I've finished." Harry stared at her for a moment longer until… "What?!" she snarled. Success.

A low growl issued from the curly, brown haired boy in front of the TV. Harry leaned in closer to the maid and whispered. "I'm concerned. Last time you did anything over there, the entire staircase froze over, Skittery fell on his bum, and Sal spent the next twenty minutes defrosting the entrance hall."

"Prat. That only happened because you thought it would be funny to let your feather duster drop a mouse in front of me. Ugh, I hate mice." The girl shuddered. Harry snickered and returned to his upright position then chucked another grape at the other boy. "I really don't know why we agreed to come work for you."

"Probably because Sal is awesome," Harry answered seriously before tossing yet another grape at the other boy.

"Hmpff, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you have a serious case of hero-worship." _Plunk. Bloop. Thud._ "Stop throwing grapes at Faolan! Goodness, you're such a child!"

"SHHHHHH! You'll summon him!"

Tap. Clack. Tap. The three teenagers froze before the boys jumped into a flurry of movement. Faolan dove towards the TV changing it to a documentary on…aliens. Ancient Aliens. _Clearly educational_, Harry decided. Harry tossed the grapes he'd thrown into his mouth then clambered back into position, a book open to a random page in his hand, his leg crossed at the knee of his other, a hand (the elbow of which was resting on the armrest) propping his head up, and an expression of bored disinterest on his face. The other two teens didn't comment on the fact that he resembled more of a squirrel than a scholar with his bulging cheeks. Nevertheless, when Salazar opened the door the teen boys were in various states of rushed innocence.

Salazar hummed as he entered the room and shut the door behind him. "Asena, Faolan. I take it your tasks are done?" The two servants stood facing him and nodded. "Very well, you may pursue whatever activity pleases you." They nodded once again and left the room. "Hadrian, the book is upside down." Asena snickered as the door clicked shut behind her.

"Dammit, so close," Harry muttered after safely swallowing the grapes.

"Hardly." Salazar strode to the table, took the remote and clicked the power button. "When I said you may watch something educational I did not mean nonsense about aliens…or ninjas." Harry grinned sweetly at the butler whose pleasant smile didn't waver. Danger bells went off in Harry's mind. "However, since you have shown interest in the way of the sword, perhaps I can find someone to teach you."

"B-but, I'm already learning so much. Like Latin!"

Salazar's head tilted to the side. "How you can attend a magic school whose curriculum is centered on Latin based spells without knowing Latin is confounding. It is a language you should have learned before starting school at any rate."

"Writing!"

"You're penmanship is horrific, as is your grammar. Do they teach you nothing at Hogwarts?"

"Shooting and hunting!"

"Both of which you seem to be remarkably good at despite your poor vision."

"Etiquette, finances, and history."

"All essential for successfully running your own household."

"Dancing."

"I watched you dance at the Yule Ball; it was enough to make me cringe," Salazar announced which stunned Harry into a momentary silence. "There's not much that can get that reaction from me. Also, like everything else I am having you learn, it will help you in the long run."

Harry sighed and looked down at the novel in his hand. He huffed when he realized it wasn't a novel at all, but a Latin grammar book. A teacup blocked his view and he took the cup automatically. "Thanks." He blew into the cup before taking a sip. He was sure it wasn't Earl Grey but that was the only thing he could determine. It also needed a touch more milk. He didn't bother asking for it and just took another sip. "It's just a lot to take in. I've only been here for two weeks."

"You have made good progress in that time."

"My trial is tomorrow."

"Indeed it is. Your suit is already pressed and hanging you in your room as are your dress robes; your shoes have also been brought to a shine."

Harry blinked. "Thanks. How am I getting there?"

"Skittery will bring us to and from the Ministry of Magic. House elf magic is convenient, is it not?"

"Only when they're not trying to save you." The dark-haired demon didn't reply. "So, that case we've prepared," Harry continued. "It's sure to stand, right? I'm not going to lose my wand? I won't be expelled, will I?"

"I cannot foresee the future, Hadrian. That said, you do have a solid case. It is unlikely that they will punish you for protecting yourself. If they do, it will be no more than a slap on the wrist as an example to others." Harry relaxed. "However, if this proves to be an unreasonable response by the Minister to silence you and they do snap your wand, you can always purchase another. It will not present a challenge," Salazar stated. "And, if by the same token they expel you, then you can apply to other magical schools which may very well be the best course of action no matter the outcome of the trial."

"All of my friends go to Hogwarts!"

"You are capable of making new friends, are you not?"

Harry pouted and crossed his arms across his chest which earned him a glare followed by another pleasant smile. He quickly rearranged himself so that he was sitting up in the armchair with his hands in his lap. "I suppose." Salazar crossed to the book shelf in the room and selected a tome from its perch. "Dumbledore will probably be there."

"Undoubtedly."

"He'll want me to go to wherever he was going to bring me before. The one he mentioned in that note you showed me a few days ago."

"Yes."

"How am I going to avoid him after the trial?"

"I will be with you, Hadrian, and there will be no need to avoid anyone. It's beneath you."

Harry blinked again. "Right."

"You have a busy day ahead of you, I suggest you turn in for the night."

"Right, 'k." Harry placed the Latin textbook onto the coffee table as he stood along with the empty teacup. "I'll do that. Thanks for the tea and company, Sal. G'night." He turned away and headed out of the informal sitting room's door, completely missing the wince that came with his nickname for the demon.

* * *

><p><span><em>Quick Staff Overview: <em>

_Faolan Greyback: Werewolf gardener, age 14_

_Asena Devry: Elemental maid, age 16_

_Skittery: House elf = Less work for Seb/Sal_

_AN2_: And that's this week's long-awaited installment of _Black Knight_. Tune in next time for the trial, flashbacks, and more!


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